


500 Words Is Not Enough

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Egg beater challenge story.





	500 Words Is Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

500 Words Are Not Enough by Miriam

28-Oct-97  
Short, Short Story Challenge  
M/K (NC-17), 500 words   
okay to archive

* * *

"500 Words Are Not Enough"  
by Miriam  
<>

There isn't time and there isn't space, but still we press our bodies together and I want to say something that will stop this before it moves over the chasm from fantasy to memory. I don't want to remember you, Mulder. 

So please, take your hand off my chest where I can feel it tracing some obscure pattern, crop circles you've seen, the pattern of aerial photographs of landing sites. Anything you do to me is erotic, even that same hand closing against my chin is sometimes more than I can bear. But this, your hand moving down and then just stopping above my cock as if you can hear my thoughts. Is it just as important that I become another memory you can obsess over or leave behind? We don't have enough control over our fantasies. 

But now your hand has slipped past that point at which I might have said "No" and cried for the guard, exchanging one release for another. I could leave this prison but for your hand on my cock, an iron grip that is at odds with your almost smile. I want to kiss you, but you turn away, face the wall, and I have a moment to panic before I know this isn't over. I can't hear the screams from the next cell over the sound your zipper makes coming down. You've given me my innocence, and now I wonder how I can fit inside you without pain and then suddenly remember that nothing we do is without pain. I was supposed to translate the truth for you. But if there is no truth, we can still have this moment without words and without lies. Just me deep inside you, hoping that I can leave enough of myself so that you will understand. Coming is only a little death when you are alone and killed by your own hand. Mulder, will you ever forgive me for making you call out my name? 

******************************************************

There is too much pain for anyone but you and me to see the irony in this. I can't see sky above, but I believe it's there. I am damp and cold and cut apart and the leaves beneath me must be black with blood (surely a poetic tableau), or is it just winter already degrading the leaves? When we arrived here it was still early autumn, but nature has her own schedule in Tunguska. How much time has passed? I have the taste of you still on my tongue, the scent of you rubbing so hard against me that we traded skin for skin. I am clarified in my pain, distilled to an essential desire to live that has always been perversely strong. I've lost my tolerance for pain, of course, but not the desire (does that make me a masochist or is this love?). I know that I will find you. My right hand is a poor substitute and there is nothing left of me that isn't needing you. 


End file.
